Happy Birthday, Granger
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: It seems only one person remembered Hermione Granger's birthday. One-shot, R&R!


So, as usual, I own nothing. This is just a little one-shot I thought up today during my lunch break. So, please enjoy!

* * *

Tear-clouded brown eyes watched the hands on the watch tick by. Seven minutes until midnight. Seven minutes until her birthday was over. No one had said anything all day; her friends, the Weasleys, members of the Order who still hung around the Burrow on an uneventful Saturday. A singular tear rolled down her cheek, but Hermione banished the offensive droplet. Hermione Granger wouldn't cry for something so insignificant as a 21st birthday. It was hardly important; just another day.

Stairs squeaked somewhere behind her, but Hermione didn't care. It wasn't her house, after all. She shouldn't care if someone else decided the sitting room was a good place to while away the midnight hour.

"Bit late to be up, Granger."

Hermione knew that voice. It was rich with humor and a carefree attitude she wished she could possess. Fred Weasley had never been known for serious behavior. The mischievous redhead was prone to prank and mock and laugh as often as a situation would allow. And sometimes, more often than a situation would allow. They had never been close, too different to be friends. Hermione, though, saw the attraction he held. She could understand people's gravitation toward him and his twin. They were smart and successful, creative and witty.

"Not speaking to me, Granger?"

Hermione continued to stare out the window, her eyes drawn to the moon without really seeing it. Its light shone, casting a whitish aura on everything it touched. The world outside this house looked peaceful.

"It's dark, so I know you aren't reading."

His voice sounded closer. She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping the action would make Fred Weasley disappear. Her right eye cracked open slightly. He was next to her, his hand resting on her shoulder. A concerned, slightly worried look ghosted across his face before he moved to sit in front of her.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke. Hermione hugged her knees to her chest, careful not to touch the man in front of her. Automatically, her shoulders shrugged as she used her shirt sleeve to wipe the moisture from her eyes.

"It's nothing," she finally said. Her eyes glanced down at the watch. Five minutes.

"Right, because it would make sense to cry over nothing," Fred retorted, standing up. She watched him move. He hadn't changed much over the years. Red hair, freckled cheeks, a growth spurt had shot him up to just over six feet tall in his fourth year. His once gangly frame had filled out from years of Quidditch; arms strong and muscular, stomach flat and toned. She blushed when his blue eyes connected with her own. If she wasn't mistaken, a flash of a smirk danced on his face. She looked back down at the watch. Four minutes and 30 seconds.

"I've had a not so good day today," Hermione confided, eyes still set on her watch. The couch sagged under his weight, his right leg brushing against her sock-clad toes. She left them there this time, glad for any little touch.

Fred nodded, pushing his shaggy red hair off his forehead. "Wanna talk about it?"

The brunette shook her head, letting it rest against the back of the couch. Her eyes never left the watch.

"I know something you don't know." Hermione looked at him. Fred's smile was taunting and full of delight.

"Oh, really? And what is it?" Her curiosity always bested her. He knew that much about the young, book loving, Gryffindor. He examined her, entranced by brown eyes that held traces of sadness lit up at the thought of a new discovery. Fred laughed, noticing the way her spine straightened in anticipation.

"Can't tell you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because then you and I will both know it," he answered. "And then I can't tease you with 'I know something you don't know'."

The young witch let out a groan, swung her feet to the floor, and began to move toward the staircase.

"Today's your birthday."

Her left foot had just hit the first step when she stopped. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him, her mouth open as if to ask a very important question.

"Okay, so maybe you do know that," Fred amended, standing up, but with no intentions of coming closer. She turned fully now to look at him. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at the thought of Fred's face matching the color of his hair. She moved closer to him, an arm chair in between them.

"I did, in fact, know that," she replied, a chuckle escaping with her words. She looked down at her watch.

Three minutes.

"Is that why it's been a bad day?" Fred asked. "Not a fan of being another year older?"

Hermione produced a mirthless laugh. "No, that's not it."

"Didn't get what you wanted?" he guessed.

"You're getting warmer."

Fred stepped to the side of the chair, a foot of space in between them.

"Was it a pony? Is that what you were hoping for?"

Her eyes dropped down to look at her feet, the grip on her watch tightening. "No, that wasn't it."

"Well, thank goodness for that," Fred replied with a laugh. "Wherever would we put a pony?"

Hermione joined in his laughter. "Yes, because there is absolutely no room for any other wild animals in the Weasley house."

A hand landed on his heart as Fred pulled a pained look on his face. "That hurts, Granger, really, truly, deeply hurts. I'm offended. Wounded. Might never be right again."

Hermione took a step closer, glanced at the watch. Two minutes. She put a comforting hand on Fred's left arm and said, "I'm sure you'll live."

Fred smiled. "So tell me what it was that's put you in such a horrid mood on your birthday. Please?"

Her resolve slipped as he cast his deep blue eyes in her direction. "No one remembered," she told him, her voice soft, on the cusp of broken. She wouldn't cry though, had done that enough already. "Not Harry, not Ron, not even Ginny. And if they did remember, well, they haven't let on that they did. I don't care about that though. It's just, for once, it would be nice to have a little bit of the spotlight on me for something that isn't school related or work related or Harry Potter related. You must think I'm being silly."

Arms pulled her lithe frame closer to a warm body. "It's not silly at all," Fred whispered, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. She turned her head to look into his eyes. Never before had she seen sadness in them. Instantly, she regretted the thought that she was to blame for it. She shook her head, trying to rattle loose those thoughts. Instead, she relaxed into the hug, glad that someone (even Fred Weasley) cared.

It was over too soon, she thought, as Fred's arms untangled themselves from her. She felt cold without the comforting hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Her arms clutched her waist, trying to regain hold of that feeling that coursed through her as Fred Weasley held her. His cheeks were pink, she realized; his eyes looking everywhere but at her.

"I'm gonna go to bed," Fred declared, clearing his throat. He was three stairs up when he looked back at her. "Happy Birthday, Hermione."

12:01 am.

Hermione laughed, standing two steps below him. "It's not my birthday anymore."


End file.
